


On Defense

by notaguitarfret



Series: "They're all girlfriends" AU [22]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I'm proud of them, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Past Rape/Non-con, and things get soft, self harm cw, things get sad, wow look at them go they really are being girlfriends huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21587692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaguitarfret/pseuds/notaguitarfret
Summary: In a final attempt to get Heather McNamara's cheerleading role back, Heather Chandler lets something slip.
Relationships: Heather Chandler/Heather McNamara, Heather Chandler/Heather McNamara/Veronica Sawyer, Heather Chandler/Veronica Sawyer, Heather Duke/Heather McNamara, Heather McNamara/Veronica Sawyer
Series: "They're all girlfriends" AU [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1053590
Comments: 3
Kudos: 228





	On Defense

**Author's Note:**

> CW - discussions of self harm are in this chapter !! please skip over if this makes you uncomfortable

Chandler found herself pinned up against the wall of the closet, rough hands gripping her sides while teeth nipped at her neck. She let out a whine and a tongue hit a very sensitive part, just below her ear, and her hands tangled in blonde hair as she pressed Mac’s lips up against her.

“You know I- _mmm,_ ” Chandler stuttered as hands began to unbutton her shirt. Of course, her blazer had already been pulled apart. “I didn’t expect you to be so rough.”

Mac glanced up at her with concern. “I can be more gentle if you prefer.”

“ _No,_ ” Chandler quickly gasped, pressing her hands back against her chest. “I never said I didn’t _imagine_ this.”

“Hm,” Mac grinned seductively, slowly peeling away her shirt. “Looks like we had similar ideas.”

Chandler arched a brow. “You imagined me to be… um…” She bit her lip. “What’s the word-”

“Submissive?” Mac asked, kissing along her collarbone. “I liked to picture it a lot, yeah.”

“Oh, _lucky you_ ,” she muttered, before letting out a squeak when she felt her bra being tugged. “Mmm… how far are you willing to go with this?”

“All the way, if you’re willing,” Mac chuckled in a low voice, slowly crouching down, trailing kisses on the way.

“Do we have enough time?” she murmured, her thighs quivering as fingers traced them.

“Hm, let’s see.” Mac paused, to her frustration, and glanced at her swatch. “Of course we have enough ti- oh _shit_.”

“Huh?”

“I- I completely forgot.” She stood back up with a panicked expression. “I’m _so_ sorry, Heather, can we finish this later? I have… um… a _thing_.”

Chandler’s shoulders slumped, and she was pretty sure she felt her whole body shake out of desperation to be touched.

“A _thing?_ ” she echoed in dismay. “You don’t have anything now! You’re not a cheerleader anymore.”

“I know! I just- I gotta go, I’m gonna be late!” She straightened up her collar and quickly patted down her hair, before picking up her bag and darting out the storage closet. “Bye!” is all Heather got before her leave.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Heather hissed with frustration, looking down at her undone clothes. “ _Shit._ ”

Her brain still running on arousal and literally nothing else, she roughly fastened her buttons and blazer, not even bothering to fix her collar or tuck her shirt in, grabbed her bag and stormed out into the empty corridor and down the hallway.

“The fuck, she doesn’t even have anything right now!” she muttered bitterly to herself. _What could she possibly doing right now when she_ could _be eating me out?_

The thought made her legs suddenly grow weak, and she stumbled forward.

_Mmm.. gotta fix this problem quickly._

Stopping outside the correct door, and peeking inside to make sure it was the right class, Heather pushed the door open, not bothering to even knock.

“Um, excuse me?” the teacher of the class questioned, turning around to shoot her a questionable look. Heather glared back at her.

“Hi, so sorry to interrupt, I need Veronica Sawyer.” She pointed to the startled brunette, who was sitting next to Betty. Not for long, anyway.

“Why’s this?”

“Emergency.”

“To do with…?”

She quickly rattled her brain for some limp-handed excuse.

“Her asthma. Very personal.” She turned back to Veronica, who gave her a knowing look. She saw her whisper to a concerned-looking Betty, who seemed to relax from whatever she told her.

“Alright. Sawyer, go on,” the teacher said with a nod, gesturing for her to go. Veronica nodded, shoving her pens and paper into her bag quickly, then hurrying out the class. Once the door was closed behind them, Veronica leaned over to her.

“Okay, what’s the _real_ reason?” she asked. “And what’s more important than me learning about Anarchism? Betty is having an actual _blast_ in there right now.”

“I am _incredibly_ turned on, and no way will I be able to fix it with just my hand,” Chandler growled, grabbing her sleeve and pulling her back to the storage closet. “I need you to finish me. Sorry, get me _started_.”

Veronica snickered as she was pulled along. “You couldn’t get Mara to do this? I thought you both were free right now.”

“That’s what _was_ happening,” Chandler growled, practically throwing Veronica into the closet. “But she had to leave for something. I dunno what.” She shut and locked the door and pressed herself up against the wall.

“Huh, that’s funny,” Veronica said.

“Yeah, yeah, we can worry about it later. Just _fuck_ me already!”

Veronica arched a brow. “ _Someone’s_ desperate.” She stepped forward and slipped her hand under her skirt, fingers grazing over her centre. The action lured a whine out of Chandler, while Veronica’s eyes widened. “Wow, she _did_ turn you on. You’ve soaked right through.”

“ _Please_ get to it, for the love of- _fuck!_ ” She was cut off when a hand slipped beneath the fabric, and from then on, she had to bite down on her lip to keep herself as quiet as possible.

With the exception of a few whimpers, that is.

* * *

_Do I keep the bow in or no?_

Heather frowned at her reflection, placing the bow in and out of her hair, trying to decide whether or not it would be best to be kept in. Though, with some consideration, she realised having nothing to hold her hair back may prove to be difficult with the task about to be at hand.

“Leave the bow in.”

A voice suddenly sounding from somewhere behind her made her jump, and when she looked in the mirror, she saw the stall door behind her opening. Out stepped Duke, who looked around the room before stepping out completely.

“Heather!” Heather squealed happily, swirling around to meet her. “What are you doing here? You don’t have gym now.”

“No, I have English,” Duke said. “But I thought I’d skip.”

“You’re skipping English?” Heather gasped. “That isn’t like you.”

“No…” Duke’s foot traced circles on the tiled floor. “But I know your tryouts are about to start, and I thought I’d wish you luck before you go.”

Heather smiled fondly. “That’s very sweet of you.” She took hold of her hands. “You’re a real sweetie.”

“Whatever,” Duke mumbled, rolling her eyes. “I just figured you could use the encouragement.”

“I could, thank you.” She pulled her closer and planted a kiss on her lips.

“Wait.” Duke pushed her back a bit. “Are we definitely alone?”

Heather pursed her lips and nodded. “I’m the only girl here, it seems.”

“I’m shocked.”

Heather sighed. “I know. Soccer doesn’t look very appealing to the girls in this school.”

“I wonder why.”

Heather arched a brow.

“Is this another attempt to get me to drop out?”

“No, it’s a warning.” Duke bit her lip. “Emmy… I’m speaking from someone who grew up around boys. You can’t let your guard down out there, or there will be trouble.” Hands landed on her shoulders. “The guys in this school aren’t going to show any mercy towards you.”

“I know.”

Duke’s nose scrunched up. “ _Do_ you though?”

“ _Yes._ ” Heather sighed. “Heather, I’ll be fine, I promise-”

“Do you _know_ what it’s like to deal with boys constantly tackling you, Heather?” Duke cut her off, grabbing her by the collar. “Do you _want_ to see the really big bruise on my thigh from when Hayden knocked me into the table the other day? Thank _God_ he’s gone back to college…” she muttered through gritted teeth. Heather pouted.

“I’m sorry he did that,” she said looking down at her waistline. “Which thigh was it?”

Duke pointed to her left, and Heather stroked the black fabric of her skirt with her thumb.

“My poor sweetie,” she cooed, kissing her hand and then patting where the bruise was. “There, that’ll make it better.”

“Ow.” Duke winced when she patted a little too hard, and Heather grimaced.

“Delayed healing reaction,” she said, before planting a kiss on her lips. “I’d love to talk more, but I should go.”

“Don’t think I’m not coming with you,” Duke said, folding her arms. “I didn’t skip English for nothing.”

“I mean, I doubt you’re missing _that_ much in English.”

“Emmy, I want to be a journalist. English is important.”

“Right.” She grabbed her hand. “Well, I really appreciate it! Now, let’s go!”

With that, she dragged Heather out of the changing rooms and then outside into the field. The air was cold and the sky was grey, and the chilled breeze brushed over her bare legs and arms and caused a shiver to run up her spine and goosebumps to rise. No matter. Physical activity was all she needed to warm up.

Duke, though, not so much. Poor girl was already shivering.

“You don’t have to stay out here if it’s too cold-”

“ _No,_ ” Duke snapped stubbornly. “Let me be a supportive girlfriend.”

Heather rolled her eyes. “Okay, bossy.” She turned towards the bleechers ahead, and the team of recruits came into view. Not all of them were tall, not all of them were muscular. But they were all definitely guys.

Suddenly, a choking feeling of doubt clogged her throat, and she had to swallow it down forcefully.

“Heather?”

Duke glanced at her when she stopped in her tracks.

“You think Heather might have been right about this? Maybe doing something like this would be a dumb idea.”

Duke rolled her eyes. “It _is_ a dumb idea, and I’m going to be supportive of that.” She stepped behind her and pushed her forward. “Also, I will take any opportunity to prove Heather wrong.”

“If you’re sure.”

She reached the field, and when Duke parted with her to take a seat on the bleachers, she took a deep breath before moving towards the team. All eyes were on her.

“I thought you were joking,” was the first thing she heard. Her heart dropped, but she continued to hold her head high.

“Nope. Here she is, on the list.” The guy who was seated in front of the group stood up and held out the slip of paper towards the rest of them. “Looks like she dared to show her face.”

“I’m not ‘daring’ to do anything,” she said. “I’m just trying out for a team. It’s not that hard.”

“Something _will_ be hard if I’m forced to stare at her for a whole game,” she heard someone crudely whisper. She clenched her fist, but when she spun around to face whoever had made the gross comment, one of them stumbled back when something white and sticky landed right in his eye. He yelped in pain.

“Feel lucky that was my last piece of gum, asshole,” she heard Duke call from a little further up. She gave her a thankful smile. Then, who she assumed was the captain of the team, as well as being someone who she vaguely recognised, gave her a light punch on the arm.

“Not too late to back out, you know,” he said. “I get it. Things are a lot more intimidating when they happen in real life.”

Heather arched a brow. “I know what I was signing up for, Garrett. You think I haven’t been forced to watch you guys play for years?”

“Oh yeah! Weren’t you a cheerleader?” a shorter guy called out. “What happened to that?”

Heather deeply inhaled. It was even more difficult to think about, now that she knew the real answer.

“Oh, _somebody_ got a bit annoyed that I knocked his teeth out,” she hissed through gritted teeth, while keeping a grin on her face. “Anyway, it’s cold! Should we get started?”

“In a sec. Gotta assort the teams.” Garrett sat back down on the bench. “Keep in mind, there are only five slots available. Not all of you are gonna get on. Now for teams.” He raked his gaze along the assembly line. “Split it down the middle. Reese to Heather, Kyle to Maxwell.”

While Heather gave a welcoming smile to her temporary team, the rest of them didn’t respond with such joy.

“Why do _we_ get the girl?” one of them muttered.

“Someone has to,” Garrett replied. “Now decide who’s on what post. Remember there aren’t that many of you.”

“Hey, maybe we should lay off of Heather,” a team member said, walking over to her. “Maybe her cheerleading skills can offer something to the team.”

She would have thanked him for cutting her some slack, but someone else spoke up before she could.

“Oh, oh! Whoever’s the best teammate gets to take her on a date!” Reese said, raising his hand. Heather frowned at him.

“I never said you could.”

“Could you give me a chance?”

“No chance, skinny twig,” a taller, buffer member said, shoving him aside. “Her eyes are on Kurt Kelly.”

“Fuck.”

“Um… just to clarify, we’re not dating,” she said with a slightly disgusted grimace. “We never really were.”

“Aw, come on, we see you oogling him all the time,” the buff one said.

“I… no? No, I have never done tha-”

“What are we, a load of statues?” Garrett suddenly yelled at them. “Get yourselves in position!”

With that, their conversation ended, and they frantically found a post each seconds before the game began. Heather ended up on defense with the one guy who had defended her, whose name she had learned was Hale. That meant she was meant to stay close to the goal, and therefore watch as the ball was frantically kicked around the field on the other side, away from her.

And part of her was okay with not participating, with how hard the players would slam into each other, showing no mercy. She knew if she were in that position, the hit may only be harder.

And for the first time, she started to wonder if she should’ve told Chandler about this. Maybe then she would’ve been able to talk her out of it.

“Heather!”

“Huh?”

She snapped out of her daydream, and saw the ball had flown right past her. She was shot some less than pleasant looks from her team, though at least the other team looked pretty happy with her. Sighing disappointedly to herself, she scrambled after the ball, trying to shove past the other players as she did so. But the grass was wet, and she underestimated how firm the ground was when she leaped forward for the ball, and slipped onto her side. Mud splattered everywhere, and stuck to her clothes and skin when she stood up.

By the time she was able to focus on the game again, the ball was already rolling around in her team’s goal. She winced to herself, before looking over to Duke. She was offered a thumbs up and a supportive smile, and while she smiled back, she wasn’t entirely sure how strong she could come back from her slip up.

* * *

Duke couldn’t name a time when she had been so engrossed in a game of soccer. Right now, though, her eyes were glued to the field, specifically the blonde running around it frantically, chasing after the ball as best she could. So far, her time was losing.

“So,” she said, making her way down the bleachers and sitting just behind Garrett. “How exactly are you judging this?”

“By how good a team player she is, as well as how good she is,” he replied. “I’ll give her this, she’s not as bad as I thought.”

Duke arched a brow and looked back at the pitch. The ball was kicked to one boy, and then to another who stood a few feet behind Emmy. They were both on the same team.

“If you ask me, she’s not getting a chance to show any of those skills, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, she’s only fallen once. I’m surprised she’s still in the game.”

Heather rolled her eyes, and just as her attention landed on Heather once again, she saw that the ball was heading towards the goal belonging to Emmy’s team. She grimaced, expecting it to land a second score for the other team, when a small figure leaped out and kicked her leg up high in the air. It caused her to land on her arse, but the ball bounced back across the field, and found itself being dribbled by the team she was rooting for. She grinned proudly, trying to catch Heather’s eye, but she seemed too immersed in the game to even think about looking over in her direction. This time, she didn’t even stop to shake off any mud. She just scrambled back on her feet and returned to her post, eyes glued to the ball.

“Never mind. She fell twice.”

Duke snorted. “Yeah, that time it was worth it.” She looked at him, searching for any sign of admiration. “Come on, _that_ was impressive.”

“Well, yeah, she did just save her team from a possible goal.” He shrugged. Duke snarled.

“Maybe give credit where credit is due, dipshit.”

“No need to get pushy, sweetie.”

“Don’t call me ‘sweetie’.” _That’s reserved for Emmy._

He didn’t acknowledge her, instead just focused on the game. The ball was on the other end of the pitch now, so Heather could take a break.

“So, is she single?”

She let out a frustrated groan. _No._

“I don’t know.” She felt a twinge of guilt when she said that.

“Hm. Maybe I should let her stay.” Suddenly he sounded interested, and Duke let out a growl, leaping off the bleachers to stand in front of him, hand gripped around his collar.

“If you let her on, it’ll be because she’s _good_ at this sport, and if you don’t, it’ll be because she’s the worst. Got it?” Her gaze darkened, and his throat bobbed. “If you’re gonna keep her here purely to try and swoon her with your sweat pits and sports outfit you haven’t washed in two weeks, don’t bother. She’s not interested, and it’s not like that would work.”

“...Right.” Duke finally let go of him, and he awkwardly turned his attention back to the game. “Oh, looks like her team just won a point.”

Duke turned around and saw the ball in the opposing team’s goal, and when she looked over to Heather, she was able to finally catch her eye again. She beamed with excitement for the first time since the game had started.

And for the first time, Duke felt somewhat confident that they could go through with this.

* * *

“So, if Mara and I shared a birthday party, does that mean I’d be able to invite my _own_ guests?”

Chandler arched a brow at Veronica, who batted her lashes at her sweetly. She sighed.

“What are you getting at?”

“Can I _please_ invite my friends to my 18th?” she begged, grabbing hold of both her hands, stopping them both in the middle of the corridor. “It’s a significant birthday, after all!”

Chandler’s lip curled. “Parties aren’t even their thing.”

“No, but Martha came that one time.” Veronica narrowed her gaze. “Only this time, no one will be pulling a prank on her, _will_ they?”

Chandler rolled her eyes. “Only because I love you.”

Veronica smiled. “Aw. Though, I was hoping you’d say, only because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Doing the right thing in this school gets you crushed beneath the pretty mean lady’s heel.” She huffed. “Oh, sorry, I mean me.”

“I’m aware. Though, that gets me wondering, did you just walk into this school and immediately dominate everyone?” A sultry grin then formed. “Well, _most_ people.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

She tried to keep a scowl, but when her girlfriend let out that stupidly cute laugh, she could only clear her throat to try and stop herself from laughing along with her.

“To answer your question, no, it was gradual.” She pushed open the cafeteria doors. “I mean, I was able to build up a similar image in middle school, but once you get to high school everything just resets.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen.” Veronica clicked her tongue. “But, seriously, can Betty, JD and Martha come?”

Heather let out a groan. “If they must.” She picked up a tray and handed it to Veronica, then picked up one for herself. “But don’t expect me to make chit-chatter.”

Veronica let out a squeal, and even did a little hop that was more akin to Mac, but still adorable to watch.

Though, speaking of Mac.

“Say, where the fuck is Mac?” she asked as she made her way down the short queue. “She leaves me - _unfinished_ \- and doesn’t even give me an explanation.”

“You can ask her when she sits with us.” Then she smirked. “Also, ‘unfinished’? You hadn’t even been started.”

Chandler whipped her head around to scorn at her.

“Yeah, and I’m _bitter_ about it.”

“But speaking of Mac,” Veronica then said, eyes growing round and shimmering with excitement. “They’re doing mac n’ cheese!” She pointed to the lunch options ahead, and as she took another step closer, she caught the strong, savoury whiff of the mac n’ cheese. “The only item on the school menu worth any of my lunch money.”

“ _Please,_ ” she scoffed, face scrunching up with disgust. “All of the food they have here is total pig slop. You just lower your standards because you can’t cook to save a starving child.”

Veronica gaped at her, looking genuinely offended.

“I’ll have you know, I can make _great_ instant noodles!”

“Let me guess, in the microwave?”

“How else do you-”

“Try and cook it on the _stove_ one day, Veronica. Also, throw in an egg while it’s cooking.”

“An egg?”

“Heather taught me. You know, before the whole…” She grimaced and held up her middle finger and hovered it around her mouth.

“Right. Well, thanks for the advice, I’ll try it.” She raised a brow, while Heather placed her tray on the counter, and was about to use the finger she held up to point to her choice. “Also, for all that smack you talk about the mac n’ cheese here, you’re definitely gonna pick it.”

Just as she finished her sentence, Heather had pointed her finger in that exact direction.

“Fuck you, Sawyer,” she muttered as a big spoonful of mac n’ cheese was slapped on her plate. Veronica just pulled her tongue.

“You love me.”

Heather could hardly bite back her smile.

By the time Heather and Veronica had made it to their usual table, Duke had made her way into the cafeteria, her hair shining more than usual. When she sat down, Chandler realised that it was wet.

“Where have _you_ been?” she asked, curious.

“Outside. It started raining.” Duke brushed away some of her hair that was only growing more flat as the water weighed it down, stealing its usual curly, fluffy shape.

“Why were you outside?” Veronica huffed, already stuffing her mouth with processed cheese sauce.

“I had a… thing.”

Chandler arched a brow.

“What kind of _thing_?”

Duke avoided her gaze, instead distracting herself with taking out her red scrunchie and trying to curl her wet hair around her fingers.

“Just a thing.”

Chandler drummed her fingernails against the table, creating an impatient-sounding rhythm.

“Also, have you seen Mara anywhere?” Veronica asked after she swallowed a mouthful of her food. “Heather said she disappeared during her free.”

Duke seemed to pause her hand motions across her hair.

“She’ll be here in a bit.”

“Do you know where she went?” Chandler leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. “And what was so urgent she couldn’t even stay to _tell_ me?”

“No clue,” she mumbled. With how she still didn’t look up, and how casual she was trying to look, Chandler gave an indignant huff.

“Heather.”

Duke groaned, let go of her hair and finally faced her.

“What.”

“You know where she went. Spill.” She narrowed her eyes. “What are you trying to hide from me?”

Duke stared at her blankly for a moment.

“Is there anything I can do to lay you off me?”

Chandler shook her head, and Duke let out a groan.

“She joined the soccer team.”

She paused for a moment, looking Heather dead in the eye, unmoving.

Then she let out a cackle.

“I am _loving_ the sense of humour you’ve picked up recently, Heather!” she covered her mouth in an attempt to mute her chortles, before taking a forkful of food. “Such a card.”

As she tried to calm herself down by taking a bite of her food, she saw Duke shoot Veronica a deadpan look.

“Why can’t she laugh like this when I’m actually trying to be funny?”

That made Chandler’s laughter stop. She also stopped chewing. Stopped smiling.

“Please tell me you’re trying to be funny,” she said quietly after swallowing her half-chewed food. Duke glanced back at her, unphased.

“No. My sense of humour is much darker.”

Chandler’s hands dropped onto the table, a loud thump silencing the group. She stared at Duke, stunned.

“I’m sorry, when the _fuck_ did this happen?”

“She signed up just before Christmas break,” Duke replied with a sigh. “So, in her defense, she might have told you had you not been arguing.”

“And you _knew_ about this?” She leaned forward, and had she been close enough, she would have grabbed her by the collar. “And you _didn’t tell me?_ ”

“I didn’t tell you because of _this_ ,” she retorted, gesturing to her current position; leaning over the table with heels digging into the ground. “I knew you’d react like this.”

“No shit! What, are you seriously telling me you didn’t try to stop her?” Her lip curled into a snarl, and Duke only rubbed her temples out of irritation.

“ _Yes_ , but then she made a good argument as to why I should let her do whatever she wants.” She looked down at the floor sheepishly. “Also, she made me feel bad. And looking back, I definitely had a crush on her and wasn’t strong enough to make her feel upset.”

“ _Fucking hell, Heather!_ ”

“Wait, wait, question?” Veronica cut in with a raised hand. “Why is Heather joining the soccer team a bad thing?”

Chandler stared at her, dumbfounded. Veronica only looked more lost.

“You must be joking. You _seriously_ think that’s going to look good for us?” She slid along the bench, closer to Veronica.

“Sure.” She gave a shrug. “If anything, that could make us look more badass.”

“ _Or_ it can mean weeks of _humiliation._ ” She grasped her shoulders. “Do you realise how the rest of the school will react when they find out a _Heather_ joined the soccer team?” She then let go of her and stood up, pushing her lunch away, despite it hardly being touched. “I am _not_ letting this slide.”

“Heather, you’re jumping to conclusions,” Duke said. “Sure, I don’t remember the last time a girl joined the soccer team, but you seriously think that _this_ is going to be worth making fun of?” She gave a dismissive huff. “You haven’t even asked me if she did well.”

“It’s not just that, Heather. She’ll get destroyed out there.” She walked around the table to stand over her. “She’s an easy target.”

“She can take care of herself, you know.”

Chandler crossed her arms, sneering. “There’s only so much that girl can do.”

“She was able to be captain of the cheer team by herself. What’s to stop her at being a good player for soccer?” Duke shot up onto her feet, glaring up at Chandler with challenging green eyes. “You’re not putting enough faith in her.”

“I never said I didn’t have faith in her. I’m thinking realistically, Heather.” She took hold of her chin between two fingers and turned her towards the rest of the cafeteria. “Tell me, does this look like a school who are going to take the news of a _Heather_ joining a sports time lightly?” 

Duke pushed her hand away. “We can do whatever the fuck we want. Who gives a shit about what they think?”

“Um…” Veronica suddenly chipped in, taking a cautious step towards them. “Can I have a say in this?”

“This is a Heathers issue,” Chandler grunted.

“So? I’m a Heather!”

“You’re a Veronica, and I quote.”

Veronica frowned. “Well, can I get a say in my _girlfriend_ then?” She stepped between them both. “Especially as I dated her first.”

“ _What?_ ” Duke barked. “ _I_ dated her first. Officially.”

“Okay, true, but I’m the only one who has slept with her.” She shot the two of them a questioning look. “I think.”

“You got me there,” Duke muttered.

“You _wouldn’t_ be if she hadn’t left to go to the _soccer tryouts!_ ” Chandler hissed.

“Besides, like sleeping with someone determines if you get an opinion on them,” Duke said. “Then again, maybe that’s why Heather chats so much shit about literally everyone.”

“ _Hey!_ ” Chandler snarled. “You know what? Forget it. Both of you are coming with me.”

She grabbed them both by the hands and pulled them towards the cafeteria door, leaving their lunches behind. “Look, I don’t give a flying fuck about whether or not you think Mac will be good at soccer. I’m sure she’ll be _great_ at it. She has _very_ muscular calves.” It was only when they were in a quiet area of the hallway did she let go and turn around to face them both. “Because we can _all_ agree that she wouldn’t be having this issue had David not medalled with her cheerleading role.” She inhaled deeply, trying to soothe her fired up nerves.

When she exhaled, she was met with softer gazes from Veronica and Duke, and so she lowered her voice.

“I’m going to try something that I should have weeks ago. Maybe if I hadn’t been mad at her, she’d have her old role back by now,” she murmured regretfully.

“She’s already done the tryouts though. What’s the point in trying to get it back?” Duke asked.

“Heather, tell me what she would _prefer_. Joining something completely new, or going back to something she’s used to?”

For the first time, it seemed she got through to her, and Duke just gave a sigh that sounded a lot like giving in.

“What are you going to do?” Veronica asked. “I’m pretty sure she already went to her coach about it.”

“Easy. Think about it, ‘Ronica,” she said as she began to lead the way again. “The school would have been contacted through someone with higher authority. All we need to do is go and have a word with them.”

“What exactly are _we_ going to do?” Duke questioned.

“Easy. The two of you are star pupils, _and_ you’re the head of the yearbook.” She pushed the two of them in front of her. “Teachers like you.”

“What about you? This is your idea, after all,” Veronica said with a skeptical expression. Chandler scoffed.

“I’ll help too, but it’s not like teachers have ever liked me.” She shrugged. “Though, I suppose that means I don’t have much to lose.”

Heather stopped the two of them in their tracks when they reached the door, labeled with a golden-coloured name, _Vice Principal Washington._

“I’d go bigger and go right to the Principal, but like he ever listens to anything,” Chandler huffed, before knocking on the door loudly.

* * *

“Girls, there’s nothing I can do about that, I’m afraid,” VP Washington sighed, already looking pretty irritated by their presence. “It was made pretty clear that she wasn’t allowed to keep that role, so I’ve heard.”

To her side, Veronica saw Chandler’s hands curl in on themselves, dragging some of her skirt along with them. Her vexation hidden under the desk, she managed to keep a somewhat calm expression, though her gaze was still firm and unfaltering.

“That’s not a fair statement, sir,” she said. “The fight was off school grounds.”

“I’m sure if there were no broken bones and no complaints, the school wouldn’t care. I know I certainly don’t.”

“Oh come on, if _you_ don’t care then why can’t you just let this whole thing slide?” Duke said. VP Washington gazed at her calmly.

“Miss Duke, I’m not the only one in power. Notice the ‘vice’ pre-modifier.” He tapped that very word printed on his own name tag sitting on the desk.

“We know, but you still have _some_ power, right?” Veronica shuffled forward in her chair. “Couldn’t you at least get the Principal to _consider_ changing his mind?”

“I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to say, Miss Sawyer.”

The title made Veronica cringe. “You can just call me Veronica.”

“And what you’re _supposed_ to say is-” Chandler was cut off by a knock on the door. VP Washington held up a hand to silence the trio, before calling out, “Yes?”

“Paul, are you busy?” The door opened and in came Principal Harrison. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the group sitting around the desk, giving them all curious looks. “Oh.”

“What do you need?”

“I just needed to use your computer, mine is acting up.” He glanced at the three of them again. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, they’re fine. Hold on girls, I’ll get back to you in a second.” He rolled his chair sideways, landing in front of the bulky computer sitting on the end of his desk. He slowly tapped his keyboard, before moving away from it again. “There, signed in. All yours.”

“Thanks, Paul.” Principal Harrison moved around the desk and leaned over to look at the screen. “Technology these days is so weird.”

“Anyway, what were you going to say, Heather?” He looked back to Chandler.

“I was _saying_ that you should try and put in a little more effort into defending one of your students.”

“And to jump in,” Duke added. “There’s no way that the same treatment would be given to any of the male students. There have been fights on _school grounds_ and yet _nothing_ has been done.”

“Oh, no, that’s completely incorrect,” the Principal suddenly spoke up, looking up from the computer. “Weren’t you two in a fight the other week? I hope that detention you got taught you a lesson.”

He pointed to both Veronica and Chandler, and the two shared a sheepish exchange.

“We’re not referring to that,” Veronica said.

“What exactly are they referring to?” Harrison turned to Washington.

“They think it’s unfair that Heather McNamara lost her cheerleading role because she got into a fight.”

“Oh. I don’t see why,” he grunted. “That doesn’t exactly make a good image for the school.”

“But it’s not _fair!_ ” Chandler barked, the grip she had on her skirt tightening until her knuckles grew white. “Since when does this school care about _fighting_ unless it’s shit you’d already expect from a public school like this?”

Principal Harrison suddenly stood up straight, attention fully on Heather. Veronica winced, and she saw Duke grimace.

“Miss Chandler, I’ll have to ask you to both lower your voice and to watch your language.”

Chandler let out a loud, apathetic scoff. “Oh, _whatever_ , what you gonna do, kick me out of my own little club? Oh, wait, I don’t _have_ any!” Her lip curled, revealing gritted teeth, her mouth shaped in a defensive snarl.

“Heather, please, you’re not making a good case for your friend,” VP Washington said with a more calm tone.

“I’m not _trying_ to make a _case!_ ” Chandler snapped, slamming her hand down on the desk. “ _Ow, fuck,_ ” she hissed, holding that hand close to her chest. Veronica thought it might get her to back down, but it seemed to only enrage her more, since she stood up and stomped her foot. “I’m not trying to do anything. I’m _asking_ you to reconsider.”

“Heather, throwing a tantrum isn’t going to make anyone do that,” Principal Harrison told her. Heather dug her nails into the wooden desk, leaving behind light brown scratch marks.

“ _I’m not throwing a tantrum!_ ” she spat. “I’m mad because you’re punishing someone for punching someone who _really_ deserved it!”

“Heather, calm down,” Washington tried to say.

“No one _deserves_ any type of harm to happen to them, Heather,” Harrison cut in. She only whipped her head towards him with a blazing stare.

“Someone who tried to _rape_ me does!”

As soon as that last syllable left her mouth, her expression snapped into one of regret and her hands slammed over her mouth. She became silent as she dropped back into the chair, and with her moving slightly backwards and out of the way, Veronica was able to exchange a horrified look with Duke across the room.

Chandler was no longer making confident eye contact. Instead, she stared at the rim of the desk in front of her while her legs twisted around themselves, her body curling up as much as it could while still sitting in a formal position.

In daring to look back at the two principals, Veronica saw them both looking surprised, and a little discomforted.

Veronica then looked back at Chandler, who was slowly removing her hands from her mouth, before taking a deep breath.

“Forget it,” she muttered, not looking up. “We’ll go.”

She stood up, and both Veronica and Duke followed, but that’s as far as they got.

“No, stay,” Harrison commanded, holding out a hand. All three of them reluctantly sat back down, but then he glanced to her and Duke.

“You two may go.”

“What?” Veronica frowned. “Can’t we stay with her?”

“We need to talk to her,” Harrison said firmly.

“But-”

“ _Alone._ ” He waved towards the door. “Now go.”

Veronica bit her lip, glancing at Duke who seemed to be holding back a comeback of her own, but that never left her lips. Instead, she just quietly sighed and stood up, and in looking back at Harrison’s stern glare, Veronica knew she couldn’t argue. She gave an apologetic look to Chandler, whose eyes glistened when they watched her stand up. All of Veronica desperately wanted to stay with her, or better yet, grab her hand and drag her out of that room, but she kept to herself, sauntering towards the door with Duke following behind. She glanced at her, seeing that she was eyeing both principals bitterly.

Veronica stepped out of the room, but just before Duke did the same, she turned around and sneered,

“You’re _lucky_ that fight happened off school grounds, considering half your school is full of rapists.”

Then she slammed the door.

“No no _no_ ,” Veronica panicked as soon as it was shut. “The school can’t know about this!”

“Yeah, I know.”

She let out a pained sigh, flopping against the wall and dragging her hands through her hair. “The school’s support system is fucking _useless_.”

“Again, I know,” Duke said, coming to stand next to her.

“ _God_ this is such a mess!” Veronica hissed in frustration, hitting her elbows against the wall. “They’re going to tell Ms. Fleming. They’re going to be _so invasive_.”

“Hey, stop that.” Duke said, holding Veronica’s arm still. “And I _know_ . There’s a reason why I don’t let the school on about being bulimic.” She rolled her eyes. “Knowing them, they’d pull the same shit they did in freshman year, you know, with all those _practise healthy dieting_ posters made out of shitty markers they found at the back of their art teacher’s drawer.” She groaned. “Or when they locked away all the sharp art supplies because it was rumoured that kids were using the pallet knives to cut themselves!”

Veronica held back a wince. “Heather, there’s more at stake than just _humiliation_.” She turned to face her, folding her arms. “I mean, yes, there’s that, but also, if the school keeps bringing it up with her, she’s just going to be reminded of it every day!”

“That will also suck.”

“It will do more than _suck_ , it’ll make her incredibly anxious!”

“Hey, there you are!” A much more chippy tone suddenly spoke from behind Veronica, and when she turned around, she saw Mara making her way towards them.

“I’ve been looking for you all lunch. Why weren’t you in the cafeteria?”

Neither of them responded. Mara shot them both confused looks.

“Um… sorry that I was late, I was in the shower.” She looked at Duke. “Though… you would have known that.” She then glanced around. “Where’s Heather?”

That was when the door opened, and out stepped Chandler. Her eyes were stuck to the ground, and her arms were crossed over her chest tightly, and her expression was bitter. Veronica bit her lip as she stepped towards her, but before she could say a word, Mara spoke up.

“There you are!” She smiled and walked over to her. “Why were you talking to the vice principal?”

Chandler’s head snapped up and revealed an infuriated glare.

“You just _had_ to join that soccer team, didn’t you?” she yelled, clenching her fists. Mara stepped backwards with a shocked expression.

“Huh?”

“ _Fuck!_ ” Chandler stomped her foot, before marching off. Panicked, Veronica glanced at a confused and saddened Mara, then back at Chandler, who had just sharply turned a corner.

“Alright…” She took a deep breath. “Heather, just fill Mara in for now.” She then hurried away, following Chandler’s trail.

“Where are you going?” Duke asked.

“Where do you think I’m going?” she shot back, before turning the corner. She managed to catch a glimpse of Chandler at the bottom of the corridor, and she rushed towards her, doing her best to catch up without bumping into any passing students.

Eventually Chandler turned a corner, one that was familiar. Veronica stopped just outside the girls’ bathroom, hesitant to go in straight away. Then, when she listened in, she heard voices.

“Oh, Heather!” Veronica could have groaned out loud when she heard that voice.”Don’t suppose you have any thoughts about the blonde one’s soccer fiasco?”

“I don’t have the patience to deal with your shit right now, Courtney,” she heard Chandler retort, before the door opened again. Veronica jolted backwards, hiding behind the corner, though despite her awful hiding place, Chandler didn’t notice her when she walked past her. Granted, she didn’t turn to her direction. Instead she continued to walk down the corridor, with Veronica loosely following.

Eventually Chandler stopped at the deserted corner of the school, particularly in a place they had been early that day. She watched as she opened up the storage closet, and swinging it shut again once she was inside. Luckily for Veronica, it wasn’t locked. It was actually slightly ajar.

“Heather?” she called softly. For the first few seconds there was no response.

“ _What,_ ” was her eventual reply.

“Can I come in?”

“Whatever.”

 _So,_ _yes_ , she thought.

Veronica slowly opened the door and clicked it shut behind her. Chandler stood in the dark, leaning against the wall with folded arms and glassy eyes - the only glow coming from her.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m _fine,_ ” she snapped. “Just…”

Her voice trailed off before she could even speak, and Veronica gave her a sympathetic look, reaching her hand out towards her, only for Heather to move away.

“No,” she muttered, her grip on herself only tightening. Veronica felt a twinge hurt, but respected her wishes and kept her distance.

“I fucked it up,” she said quietly. “I don’t even know what happened. It just slipped out.” A hand hit her face. “Me and my big mouth.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Veronica said. “You got lost in the moment.”

“I should have realised what I was saying. But I just…” Her nails raked her scalp, pulling apart the hair that was neatly tucked away by her scrunchie. “...Got really mad.”

Veronica nodded. “I could see you trying to hold back.”

Chandler bit her lip. “Sometimes I just can’t help it. If I feel angry, it’s near _impossible_ to keep it in. I don’t understand how people can keep calm.” She kicked her foot against the chipped wall behind her. “And now they’re going to tell Fleming everything I said, and…” She let out a long breath, her shoulders slumping. “I can’t let them be on my ass about this.”

Veronica rubbed her own arm. “I know how you feel.”

Heather frowned. “ _Do_ you, though?” She turned towards her. “Not only is Fleming going to be offering me ‘extra support’,” she mocked with quotations, “but do you know how fucking _unsubtle_ that woman is?”

“Mhmm.”

“Oh, God, what if the rest of the school finds out?” She pulled on her own hair, the red scrunchie slipping down her ginger locks. “What am I saying? Even if I _don’t_ get awful advice about sharing my troubles with my classmates, she’ll call me out of class or pull me aside at the worst times, or… or-”

“I know, Heather.”

“ _No you don’t!_ ” she snapped. “Having the school prod me about this is the _last_ thing I need right now! Don’t pretend you know what I’m going through, Sawyer.”

Veronica scowled. “Quit taking your anger out on _me_ , I’m trying to help!”

“Well I _appreciate_ the effort, but like I said, you don’t fucking know what I’m going through right now! You don’t know what this could mean for me.” Heather said sourly. Veronica stared at her, eye twitching and nails digging into her forearm. When Heather looked away from her, she growled at stepped forward and clicked open the door.

Heather glanced back to see what she was doing, and when a bright slit of light seeped into the closet, Veronica rolled up her blue sleeve and exposed her arm from beneath.

“You’re right. I don’t know exactly what you’re going through,” Veronica began. “But I know more than anyone just how useless and invasive this school really is.”

She held Heather confused gaze for a moment, before letting her tense muscles relax.

“I don’t know how you haven’t noticed them before. Maybe they’ve faded that much. Maybe I can just remember the exact pattern, and my eyes like to play tricks on me.” She glanced at her arm solemnly. “Who knows, maybe you were just being polite.”

Heather’s gaze grew softer as she followed her gaze.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Veronica sighed, spotting one white line that stood out in the thin strip of light. She hesitantly lifted her other hand and gently placed a finger just before it, tracing the outline.

“So I’m guessing you never knew they were there,” she murmured, not looking up to see Heather’s reaction. Though for a while, she was silent, and Veronica was beginning to reconsider.

“Well, no. I like looking at a lot of you, but I can’t say staring at your arms is something I do.”

Her tone was light, though when Veronica finally glimpsed at her, she saw her gaze had darkened. Typical Heather, taking a moment to find something sentimental to say.

And unexpectedly, Veronica found a chuckle leaving her mouth.

“No, but you tend to have your hands here a lot.” She quickly rolled down her sleeve and pushed up her skirt to reveal her thighs, holding one leg out into the light.

“Oh.” Heather bit the inside of her cheek. “In my defense, I tend to look at your clit, not your thighs.”

“Okay, fair.” Veronica rolled her eyes, letting her skirt flop over the many scars scattered across her skin.

“Has it ever hurt?” Heather then asked. “If I’ve ever touched them.”

Veronica shrugged. “I’ve never noticed, I don’t think.” She pulled up her other sleeve to look at the rest. “They’re a few years old now.”

“How old?”

“Hard to say for all of them. The one on the arms go all the way back to middle school.” She pushed the sleeve down and folded her arms, a distant memory of a painful sensation making her cringe. “The ones on my thighs happened in freshman year.”

Heather shuffled closer to her, leaning on the door so that it would shut. The closet became dark again, the only light Veronica could really see being the glisten in Heather’s eyes.

“And… the school knows about it?”

Veronica’s eyes dropped as she nodded.

“I didn’t mean for them to. But… um…” She pursed her lips as she began to explore a memory she hadn’t touched in a long time.

“What happened?” Heather said quietly. “Can I ask that?”

“Yeah, you can, it’s just…” She lifted her head up to face Heather again. “It’s hard to think about.”

Heather remained quiet, waiting for Veronica to speak. Eventually, she let herself breath.

“I was beaten up in freshman year,” she forced out. “A load of girls ganged up on me. It took a while for anyone to step in, but at least I blacked out for the majority of it.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “I was taken to the nurse so she could help with my bruises, but some of my cuts were still fresh and had been reopened. So when she saw my arms was bleeding, she rolled my sleeve up without a second thought. It was just… kind of obvious that they weren’t from a beating.” She glanced at Heather curiously. “Did you ever do art?”

“Only to be in the same class as Heather.”

“Sorry I got the pallet knives locked away,” she said.

Heather’s brows raised and her eyes rounded.

“That’s okay,” she said. “I had a good excuse to not finish my oil painting.”

Veronica snickered. “You’re welcome.”

Heather just rolled her eyes, before stepping forward and embracing her. Veronica felt a smile curl on her lips, and she rested her chin on her shoulder.

“I’m not trying to compare my experiences to yours,” she said. “And I’m not saying that you shouldn’t tell anyone about what happened. I just know how the school deals with issues like this.” She let out a bittersweet huff. “Hell, they acted the same towards me having an asthma attack.” She ran her hand up Heather’s back with soothing motions. “I want you to get help, Heather. But I want it to be from the right people.”

“Did you?”

“Huh?”

“Get help.” Heather leaned back and caught her eye.

Veronica smiled and nodded. “I spent a lot of high school in and out of therapy, but I did.”

“Okay, good.” She stepped back again, pulling her scrunchie out her hair and flattening her wild curls with her palm. “Hm,” she grunted.

“What?”

Heather shrugged. “I guess this whole time I assumed you were the most stable one out of all of us.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but no,” Veronica chuckled. “I joined the Heathers to get away from all of that stuff. I mean, it was kind of the popular kids who beat me up, so by _being_ one, I figured I could escape that risk.”

“Just to clarify, I have no memory of beating you up,” Heather said defensively.

“I doubt it was you, don’t worry.”

“Alright,” she murmured, fiddling with her scrunchie. Veronica sighed, brushing some of her red strands out of her face.

“You’re going to be okay. You may just have a few… _invasive_ weeks.” She took hold of her hand and held it tightly. “But you’ll have me, and I’ve already gone through this shit. I’m willing to go through it again.”

Heather simpered, then slipped the scrunchie onto her wrist and reached a hand up to cup Veronica’s cheek. She then leaned forward, and Veronica fluttered her eyes shut and was met with a soft, tender kiss on her lips. Her hands found her waist and pulled her closer, until their bodies were pressed together, warming one another in the closet filled with a cold draft. The thought made her giggle against Heather’s lips.

“Hm?” Heather hummed curiously as they both peeked at each other through half-lidded eyes.

“We’re kissing in a closet,” Veronica murmured, lips grazing over Heathers. “Fitting.”

“Ha-ha. Funny gay oppression joke, Sawyer,” Heather huffed with an eye-roll, before resuming the kiss for a few more quiet moments that Veronica wished lasted much longer than they did.

_Ring-ring!_

The two of them jolted apart at the sound of the bell. Veronica frowned and Heather scorned at the irritating sound, before grabbing handfuls of her hair and tucking them behind her ears, where she tied them back up with the scrunchie.

“I’ll see you later,” Veronica said with a warm smile. Heather nodded.

“Maybe not after school,” she replied, opening the door. “I need to apologise to Mac.”

“Ah,” Veronica said as she followed her out. “Good luck with that.”

Heather let out an exasperated sigh.

“Thanks.”

* * *

Heather waited in the car, impatiently tapping her fingers rhythmically on the wheel. Occasionally she glance in the mirror to check her makeup was still in tact, up until she saw a figure moving behind the car. She glanced backwards, and saw Mac walking up to where she was parked.

Silently, she opened the door and sat down in the passenger's seat, avoiding eye contact. When she said nothing while she buckled herself in, Chandler spoke up.

“I’m not mad at you.”

Mac glanced up at her in surprise.

“You’re not?”

“No.” She turned her whole body towards her as best she could. “I mean, I wish you’d told me where you were going before, but-”

“Had I done that, you would have stopped me,” Mac retorted. Chandler blinked at her, trying to come up with a defense. Nothing came to mind.

“Okay, so maybe,” she said. “But for good reason! Joining the soccer team was a pretty bold move, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mac said with a shrug. “But it was either this or bookclub.”

“Hey! What’s wrong with a bookclub?”

“See?” Mac slyly grinned. “You’re a nerd at heart. The only difference is that I’m willing to openly express my interests, even if they don’t fit in with my image.” She placed a hand on her arm. “I know you’re only looking out for me, but you need to stop acting like I don’t have a pair of eyes myself! I’m gonna be okay.” She smiled. “Now, are you okay?”

Heather blinked. “Hm?”

“Heather told me what happened before,” she said, frowning. “I’m sorry they found out.”

Heather bit her lip. “It isn’t your fault.” She turned her attention back to her car. “Despite what I said before.” She rolled her eyes as the engine started up. “I was just mad, is all.”

“Are you still mad?”

Heather stared at the car mirror. _No, I’m scared of how the school will get involved._

“Nah. Veronica and I talked it out.”

“I’m glad!” Mac said happily. “Now are you gonna ask me how the tryouts went or what?”

Relieved to have the topic change, Chandler gave a scoff.

“How’d they go?”

“Glad you asked!” she began. “It was a slow start, I’ll admit. The grass was slippier than I thought it would be. Or maybe it was the shoes, I don’t know.”

A smile crept onto Chandler’s lips as she listened intently, occasionally forgetting to pay attention to the road ahead.

“But I think it went pretty well! Not only did I make a pretty good defence, I also scored a goal!” Her hands flapped a little in an excitable, adorable motion. “I hope Garrett thought I was okay.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll get on the team,” Chandler said.

“You do?”

“Either by skill or by looks,” she said with a smirk.

“I’d prefer by skill, but both can work.”

Chandler rolled her eyes. “I was complimenting your looks.”

“Oh!” Mac smiled sweetly. “Aw.” Then she gasped. “Oh, Heather! I didn’t finish you before.”

Chandler had to quickly shake the thought of this morning off in order to focus on the road ahead.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I dragged Veronica out of class to sort myself out.”

Mac let out a snort. “You went through all that trouble to get off?” She laughed. “Couldn’t you have just used your own hand?”

Chandler abhorrently scoffed at her. “And masturbate in a dark closet by myself? You couldn’t paint me any more like a loser.”

“Alright, fair.” She chuckled to herself. “But what I was getting at, is that, if you’re still up to it, that is-”

Already catching onto what she was going to say, Chandler could only bite her lip anxiously at the thought.

 _And here’s where Veronica would tell me to put my own interests before someone else’s,_ she thought, glancing at her girlfriend. _Even if I actually like them._

“Yeah… about that,” she said slowly. “The stuff that happened today got me thinking about things. _A lot_ of things.”

She glimpsed at Mac, who seemed to be listening closely.

“Look, since I’ve had a shitty day and therefore feel kinda shit, I feel like we shouldn’t do anything.” Those last few words came out as a mumble. “Just because it’s become a habit. It was, and I guess still is, a habit with Veronica.” Luckily she pulled up at a red light just in time to give Mac a meaningful gaze. “I don’t want the same to happen with you, Mac. You’re my oldest and best friend, and if we’re going to do _that,_ maybe we could wait until a nicer moment to do it?” She bit her lip again. “Like a date. Or a sleepover, or-”

“Or me inviting you over so that I can show you my secret BDSM dungeon.”

Chandler’s head snapped towards her, and she stared at her, stunned.

“Your _what_.”

Mac burst out laughing, and Chandler hardly had any time to glare at her since the lights had already changed.

“I’m kidding! Though, I suppose I could do that, since I’m eighteen now.” She then nudged her with her elbow. “And that’s okay. We can do whatever when you’re ready.” In the mirror, Chandler caught her eye. It was kind, reassuring. “Also, I’d love to go on a date with you.” She then glanced outside the window. “In fact, care to have one now?”

“Hm?”

“Well, since we’re at my house.” She pointed out of her window, and it was only then when Chandler realised they had already made it to Mac’s home. “Unless you have homework to do, that is.”

Chandler then smirked, letting out a scoff.

“You think I’m going to do an assignment rather than hang?” She unbuckled her seat belt. “ _Please._ ”

“Yay!” Mac squealed, quickly leaping out of the car, with Chandler following her, smiling at her fondly. As they walked up the pathway together, a strange, giddy feeling fluttered in Chandler’s chest.

“This is weird.”

“What is?” Mac questioned as she brought out her keys.

“I’ve literally never went on a date,” she murmured. “None without ulterior motives, that is.”

Mac gave an amused huff. “You went on a date with Peter Dawson, didn’t you?”

She shrugged. “I suppose.” She gave a half-smile as she watched Mac step inside her house. “But this time I’m not waiting for the relationship to end.”

Mac turned around and smiled. “Me neither.”

The pair held each other’s gaze for a moment, standing in complete silence, up until Chandler grew bored of the sappy atmosphere.

“So,” she said, closing the door behind her. “When do you find out if you made the team?”

“Tomorrow at the earliest!” she said, leading her upstairs. “Garrett says he’s just going to decide the names tonight. Getting new players ASAP is pretty important. They need to get practicing soon.” She chuckled. “I’m surprised you’re taking this so well. Soccer isn’t exactly part of the Heathers aesthetic.”

“No, you’re right, it isn’t.” She shrugged. “And I am still unsure about where this is gonna lead, but whatever.” She waved her hand dismissively. “You wanna get tackled and trampled on the field? Go for it, I’ll support you. And have bandages ready.”

Mac cooed at her. “Aww, you’re so thoughtful.” She swiveled around on one foot and planted a peck on her nose - with a little hop to reach it, of course. “Now, take your nails off. I want to do them myself.”

Chandler gaped at her, stopping just outside her room. “But…” She held her sharp, long, red acrylic nails up. “They’re _my nails_.”

“Not for long. Now go get a bowl so we can take them off.”

Chandler could only give a disgruntled pout.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

* * *

“You got in!” Veronica swirled around, away from the notice board, to look at Mac with a wide, proud grin. Mac smiled along with her, before being picked up into a hug and fits of giggles.

“See? Knew she could do it,” Duke said with a shrug and a cocky smirk. “Never doubted her.”

“Sure,” Chandler grunted, unconvinced.

“Hey, are those new nails?” Duke then asked, pointing at her hands. Chandler glanced at her nails - still red, sharp and acrylic, but now with swirls and sparkles.

“Mac did them. They look great on me.” She wiggled them in the air proudly, just before footsteps sounded from behind her. “And Mac, I also knew you would get in.”

Mac glanced at her with a raised brow.

“Sure you did.”

Following her voice came the sound of footsteps drawing ever closer from behind where Chandler stood. Curious, she turned around, and was met with the unfortunate sight of Ashley, followed closely by a couple of other cheerleaders, her unimpressive blue eyes stuck on Mac. She had a cocky grin that could only mean that she was about to spout some nonsense.

“So the rumours are true?” She stopped just a few feet away from the group, rubbing her finger and thumb together as her gaze raked them. “Is this the closest thing to cheerleading she could find?” She glanced at Chandler while pointing at Mac mockingly. “Seriously?”

Irritation made Chandler’s fingers twitch. Straightening up her posture and raising her chin, a routine that she did without even thinking, she stalked towards her, heels making loud clicking sounds with each step.

“Is there a _problem_ , Ashley?” she growled, stopping inches away from the girl. While she wasn’t much shorter, she still managed to stare her down until the cheerleader lowered her head ever so slightly. “Because if so, I would love love _love_ to hear you yap on about it more.” She bent over and hooked her chin with a finger, tilting it up for her.

“Um, Heather-” She heard Veronica try to speak up from behind her, but she gestured her to be quiet with a sharp hand motion.

“Give her a chance to speak, Veronica,” she cooed, glowering threateningly at Ashley. She could tell it was working, too, with how her shoulders grew tense and her two lackies backed away.

“No, seriously-”

“Veronica, _please,_ ” she muttered. “I wouldn’t want her throat to get tired. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about how _active_ you are in certain areas.” She flicked her finger away, scratching her chin in the progress. Ashley rubbed it with her wrist. “And no, I’m not talking about cheerleading.”

“Heather, _we should go-_ ”

“So how much protection do you need to use every week, anyway?” she questioned with a low chuckle. “I imagine a lot. You must take so much advantage of your flexibility.” _Actually, that’s not a half bad idea._

“That’s enough, Heather.”

Chandler jolted away from Ashley at the sudden voice of a newcomer. She whipped her head around to see Ms Fleming, standing not too far behind her. So close that she could catch a whiff of pot. The most notable thing, though, was that she didn’t look angry. Her expression was unreadable.

“There’s no need to project any of your issues to other students.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” She gawked at the woman, jaw hanging open.

“Girls, you’re free to go.” She turned to Ashley and her group, who all exchanged amused looks. Just before Ashley turned around to leave, she shot Chandler an expression that said nothing but a very sarcastic,

_“Whoopsie.”_

She watched them walk away bitterly, before snapping her attention back to Fleming.

“I’m not projecting anything onto anyone,” she hissed. “What sort of pot have you been smoking now? Let me know as soon as you can, because I’d _love_ to be that fucking delusional.”

Fleming inhaled deeply, then let out a long, calm exhale. “Heather, I understand it may be a sensitive topic for you, but if we’re going to work through this _issue_ of yours, I feel like we should start with addressing how you approach it yourself.”

She placed a hand on her shoulder, only for Chandler to shake it off violently, while staring at her with a flabbergasted look.

“What the hell?” she spat. “You can’t just walk up to me and start spouting some fucking hippie nonsense and pretend like I know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Ms Fleming offered a sympathetic look. “So clearly we have a lot of denial to work through. That’s fine.”

“ _Denial?_ ” she barked in disbelief. “What are you-”

Heather was cut up by a loud, hacking cough that echoed through the halls. She turned towards Veronica, who had curled up the hand over her mouth as she bent over.

“Oh, God-” she choked, coughing again. “Heather, can you, uh-” She stumbled over to Chandler, her arm landing on her shoulder to balance herself. Concern washed over her as she watched her girlfriend hack up a few more painful-sounding coughs. “Locker. I need my inhaler.”

She gave her an odd look. _What the fuck?_ You _have your inhaler-_

“I left it in your locker,” she wheezed. “Because my locker’s _stuck_ , remember?”

As she coughed again, Heather caught on.

“Yeah,” she said. “Come on, we better go.” She grabbed her hand and gave Ms Fleming one last glare as she walked past her. “This is urgent.”

She saw Mac and Duke quickly scurry close behind her, and as soon as they rounded the corner, they darted down the next corridor until they were far away. As expected, Veronica had dropped the act of her asthmatic coughing, and instead was just panting normally.

“What was _that_ about?” Mac asked.

“Who does she think she is?” Duke spat.

Chandler just silently looked at Veronica, who’s gaze was filled with dread. It seemed the two of them had both realised exactly what _that_ had been.

“Is this what I have to look forward to?” Chandler groaned, her shoulders slumping. Veronica, twiddling her thumbs, nodded quietly. Her nose scrunching up and her lip curling, Chandler swung around and slammed her fist into the locker behind her, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through her hand. Instead, she took great pleasure in the students who scattered away from her like a flock of tiny sparrows. Anyone who dared to stay still, she shot with a sharp glare. It was enough to make them second guess their decision.

“Are you alright?” Mac asked. Heather let her hand drop from the locker, though not before she gave it a quick shake to ease off the pain.

“I’m fine,” she said in a low growl. “ _Great,_ actually.”

She turned around to stare down the other students that still lingered nearby.

“And I’m not letting this school forget it.”

**Author's Note:**

> okay, just to clarify something -
> 
> Heather C *will* get actual help at some point in the fic. when writing this i realised that this could come off as me saying 'lmao don't tell anyone about your trauma they won't help you' when i believe in the opposite. therapists are there to help you. they're like a bandage - if you don't put it on a wound, it'll probably take longer to heal.  
> the problem Veronica was actually getting at in this chapter is that Westerburg is kind of useless. this isn't based off of my own headcanons, this is canon. they exploit suicide in canon, so i imagine they do the same for every other mental health issue you can think of.
> 
> basically, get ready to hate ms fleming, if you don't already
> 
> please leave your comments and kudos if you can !!! they give me motivation :>
> 
> https://heathersgameoftag.tumblr.com/


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